About Me

I am forever writing, creating, analysing, treasure hunting, whimsical, curious, easily distracted by anything archaeological, hyperaware, a natural sociologist, a dream analysis expert, a constant reader, a serious runner, a future Olympian,a shower singer, a living room interpretive dancer, a lover of beauty and truth,
never believing the myths of perfection, praying for wisdom, discovering and embracing more and more each day just exactly who this person is that God created me to be, so that I can fully discover and embrace just exactly who these people around me were created to be.

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Saturday, November 27, 2010

The Sum Of My Parts

(Pre-Script: This post will introduce you to worlds you never knew existed when read as the song, "Everybody's changing," #21 on the playlist plays in the background. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...) (...still waiting...)

I get all flustered when I have to fill out any kind of Health Care questionnaire or job application that asks me about my race. Pacific Islander? Maybe. My skin is pale, but so is Gwyneth Paltrow's, and she was in an ad campaign that said "I am African," the theory being that we all started out in Africa.

Lately, I have been wearing a flower in my hair every day. You could call it flamboyant overaccessorizing, but I like to think it's my Hawaiian gene pool finally showing itself.

"Michelle, you have Hawaiian in your bloodline?"

Sure, why not?

I have no way of accounting for every action of my every ancestor since the beginning of time, and even if they all kept extensive, detailed diaries, I'm sure at least one or two of them was lying.

Blink.

Blink.

Even if the lie was simply by way of omission.

Blink.

I am just as likely to contain Hawaiian blood as any other. So I feel pressure, Healthy Care providers and Job Granters of the world; do you hear me? I feel pressure to check every box in the nationality department.Yes, I could have a 15% higher chance of getting this or that disease, instead of that or that disease. You'll just have to test for all of them.

...But instead I check the box marked "Caucasian." This causes my brain to itch in a place I can't quit reach to scratch, because, aside from the fact that I'm not as flexible as I once was when I used to stretch extensively before trying out for cheerleading, (call that my "delusions of grandeur" gene, of which nationality I have yet to pinpoint) checking "Caucasian" is sort of like getting stuck eating the corn flakes when everyone around you gets to eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Waffles and Bacon.

Blink.

Blink.

I have never heard of a land mass, (country or continent, I wouldn't be picky) called "Caucasia." Have you?